


The art of giving

by katiebuttercup



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, girl!grantaire, pining!jolras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: Enjolras falls in love with grantaire when he sees how much she loves their friends





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners 

Part one- Combeferre's birthday 

"Here you go!" 

Grantaire stands in front of Combeferre proffering a very badly wrapped present in her hands. Her usual cynical disposition has disappeared and in its place is a slightly lopsided grin. It's sort of distracting in a way Enjolras can't quite place. To distract himself he watches Combeferre unwrap the gift with care and consideration. 

Enjolras finds himself watching Grantaire out of the corner of his eye as most of his attention is on his best friend. Grantaire is almost vibrating with energy, nervous but happy. It's like he's never seen her before. 

Combeferre' jaw drops as the last of the paper is discarded. Enjolras studies the book-its old from the look of it. Combeferre thumbs it open to reveal pages of intricately drawn moths and butterflies. 

"How did you find this?" Combeferre breathes in awe. "It only got one print run"

Grantaire shrugs, "I kick about in some nerdy places of the Internet" 

There is something like reverence in the way Combeferre flicks through the book. As he reaches the end he realises that there are sketch cards. Grantaire clears her throat, clearly embrassed. 

"I...uh some pages were kind of ruined so I kind of, I dunno...filled in the blanks. Hope you don't mind my crappy art" 

Combeferre takes the sketch cards out of the book and slips them into a clear plastic folder. "They'll be up on my wall tonight," Combeferre promises. He stands, enveloping Grantaire in a hug. Grantaire freezes for a moment then pats him awarkwardky on the back fondly. 

"You're such a nerd," Grantaire murmurs but she's pleased Enjolras can tell. "Don't be a book geek all night come and have some cake later," Combeferre is still a little misty eyed when he agrees.

Throughout the night Combeferre keeps going back to his presents-most particularly Grantaire's gift. 

"You like Grantaire's present?" Enjolras asks. He thinks that maybe Grantaire's cynicism has leaked into him. He can't connect the Grantaire that is always mocking him-and by extension Combeferre with the clearly personal thoughtful present she has given him. 

Combeferre rolls his eyes, "don't start Enjolras. Just because you rub Grantaire the wrong way doesn't mean the rest of us don't get on with her."

"Oh so it's my fault she continually disrupts everything we try to do?" Enjolras is defensive and he can't quite put a finger on why. 

"You cause arguments with Grantaire at least forty percent of the time. You got used to everyone agreeing with you and suddenly Grantaire doesn't and it makes you mad." He stares straight at Enjolras unflinching in a way only a best friend can. 

"And the reason it makes you mad is because sometimes she's right and you don't like it."

Combeferre's hand rests lovingly on the book. "You spend so much time arguing with her you don't see her. She's a good friend. You should try to see her as a friend not an enemy"

Enjolras stews for almost an hour. The party is loud and bright but Enjolras ignores all of it. He feels unsettled. As leader he feels like he knows his best friends, but he realises that perhaps the other Amis know a different Grantaire then he does. 

So he watches her. 

Grantaire flits from friend to friend, seemingly knowing when each needs something. She doesn't look different, her features are still slightly mismatched, yet interesting. Everyone seems happy to be in her company, opening their arms to her. Enjolras realises that he's used to seeing Grantaire with a particular look-a smirk or derision aimed at him. He never realised that wasn't Grantaire's natural disposition. It's unnerving. It's something he'll have to figure it out. Maybe.


	2. Courfeyrac

Based on a 2 broke girls episode 

 

To be fair Enjolras's threshold for surprise when he enters Courfeyrac's apartment is pretty high.  
And yet seeing Grantaire sitting on a mattress in the middle of Courfeyrac's living room comes close to the top. 

"What are you doing?" 

Grantaire looks up from the laptop beside the mattress, drill bits poking between her lips. 

"Building a Murphy Bed," 

Of course she is because why not?

"Why?" Enjolras feels compelled to ask despite his better judgement. 

Grantaire presses pause on the YouTube video. She looks annoyed, "because Courfeyrac's latest conquest had a Murphy bed in the wall and now Courfeyrac wants one. And since I'm the only one who knows which end of the hammer to use I'm it. Now if you're here to chat move along cos mama's got shit to do"

Enjolras stares for a moment as Grantaire presses play and methodically gets back to work. He's not used to Grantaire dismissing him. It rankles more than it should. And definitely intrigues him more than it should. 

He shrugs off his jacket and sits on the other side of the bed frame. 

"What do you need me to do?"

Grantaire looks surprised, she raises an eyebrow. 

"Y'know this is manual labour right? This bed isn't gonna be put together by pretty words"

Grantaire's opinion on his and Combeferre and Courfeyrac's privileged background is a well trod argument. 

"I get that" Enjolras says neutrally. 

Grantaire assesses him, "well I'm sure Courf will be grateful for your contribution to his sex life" 

If she's trying to make him uncomfortable she's barking up the wrong tree. Enjolras has lived with Courf, there's little that can shock him. 

They work in silence for a while until Enjolras asks,

"So how many Murphy beds have you installed?"

"This is my first but you grow up like I did you learn to fix things pretty quick." She meets his eyes fully. 

"Not everyone can buy something new everytime something breaks. Or goes out of fashion"

Enjolras feels the old guilt slide down his spine. He isn't particularly proud of where he comes from, rich upper middle class socialites. It had taken what he considered an inordinate amount of time for him to see the light. 

But he had. And he was determined to create a better world, a fairer world. 

Something tugs at the back of his mind. A shadow of a memory: combeferre's party and Grantaire's kindness.

He wants to know more. He wants to know that Grantaire.

"So, how'd you swing ferre's present?" He asks in what he hopes is a casual tone.

Grantaire is busy studying the video, pausing and rewinding a few seconds. 

"He mentioned it a couple of times, I just got lucky on the internet"

Enjolras is certain he has spent significantly more time with Combeferre but he doesn't remember his best friend mentioning the book. 

He would feel bad but somehow knowing Grantaire filled the gap makes him happy. 

Enjolras likes to think of the les amis as a family, one unlike his own support each other unconditionally. Sometimes it hits him that there is a division. 

"So when's your birthday?" It's the first real question he's asked Grantaire. 

Her eyes meet his, wide, open and vulnerable. He's caught her off guard. She has nice eyes, Enjolras realises. 

"Fifth of november," 

Enjolras makes a mental note. 

"It's nice of you to make this bed for Courf,"

Grantaire huffs out a laugh, "it just means im at the bottom of the list of people to call when he has a sex related injury"

Enjolras shudders, "does that mean I'm at the top,"

Grantaire stands, bracing herself on Enjolras as she does. Enjolras feels the heat of her fingers even through his shirt. 

He looks at the half built bed. He wonders how much more he can learn about Grantaire before the job is done.


End file.
